Chapter Nine
‘Nicholas dearest!’ His aunt kissed him thoroughly, stood back to scan him from head to foot, flicked an invisible speck from his lapels and announced, ‘I like that coat. Now, I must go and change before the orphanage committee meeting. Tallie, you need to rest. Nicholas, we have been indulging in an absolute orgy. Goodness, is that the time …?’
‘Orgy?’ Tallie made herself look at Nick, only to be met with one of his blandest, most infuriating expressions.
She raised an eyebrow. It was difficult, but she had been practising in front of the mirror and was almost satisfied with the effect. ‘Of shopping, my lord.’ Carefully sweeping the skirts of her newest afternoon dress to one side, she sank elegantly onto the sofa. ‘Will you not sit down, my lord?’
‘Certainly.’ He took the chair she had indicated and sat, legs crossed, one booted foot swinging gently, fingers steepled and just touching his lips.
Tallie tried not to look at his mouth and stared at his booted foot instead.
‘Lobb’s,’ he said helpfully. ‘That is a very fetching gown.’
‘Thank you. Lady Parry’s taste is excellent. I am much indebted to her guidance.’
‘My lord.’ Tallie stared at him. ‘You forgot to say ‘’my lord’’. Up to then you had managed to insert it in every sentence. You also forgot to raise that eyebrow again, although I can quite understand why—it is devilishly uncomfortable until one has the knack of it.’
Tallie glared at him, then her sense of humour got the better of her and she laughed. ‘It is, is it not? You do it to such effect I thought it worth cultivating to depress pretension. But it gives me a headache if I practise for too long.’
‘And what did I do that required depressing?’ he enquired gently.
‘Nothing,’ Tallie admitted. ‘I was practising, my lord.’
‘There you go again! I have a perfectly good name, Tallie. Why not use it?’
Tallie. He had called her not just by her Christian name, but by the diminutive that only her friends used. It sounded different on his lips. She gave herself a little shake and said firmly, ‘It would be quite inappropriate.’
‘You call Lady Parry Aunt Kate, you call my cousin William. I did suggest to you once before that you adopt me as an honorary cousin.’
The idea of adopting anyone as large, sophisticated and self-reliant as Nicholas Stangate was a preposterous fancy. Tallie felt her lips quirk and saw an answering twist on his. ‘Very well, Cousin Nicholas.’
‘Thank you, Cousin Talitha.’ So, she was Talitha now. She fought with the fantasy of hearing him whisper Tallie while he … while he …
‘I am glad I caught you at home,’ he was saying, reaching for a slim portfolio. ‘Most of the house-agents are in the City and other areas where it is unsuitable for you and Miss Scott to be going unaccompanied. I have had my man of business assemble some particulars that should meet your requirements for both your projected schemes. If they are not to your liking he will find others. Meanwhile, if you or Miss Scott wish to view—’ He broke off to get to his feet in response to Tallie positively leaping to hers. ‘Cousin Talitha?’
‘How did you find out?’ she demanded. ‘Who has been spying on us? Or have you been worming it out of Zenna?’
‘Miss Scott is the soul of discretion,’ he said, sounding far too soothing. ‘I would not dream of worming anything out of your friend behind your back.’
‘But you are quite happy to set spies on me—behind my back?’
‘Only to protect you,’ he said, still so reasonably that Tallie wanted to hit him. ‘It is your choice which properties you select.’
‘After they have been edited and approved by you,’ she said furiously, pacing back and forth on the fine Oriental rug. She used to be calm, she used to hide every feeling, she used to be self-contained—what was he doing to her?
‘Cousin Talitha, young ladies do not conduct business on their own account.’ He was standing relaxed by his chair, one hand resting on the back of it, his eyes hooded to hide the gleam that betrayed his appreciation of the sight she presented as she swept to and fro.
Tallie came to a halt in front of him, glaring up into his eyes. ‘I am not a ‘’young lady’’, I am an independent woman. I have had to earn my own living and I intend to carry on doing just that. I will be for ever grateful to Miss Gower for her wonderful legacy and to Lady Parry for the opportunity to experience the Season, but by this time next year I need to know what I am doing and how I am going to spend the rest of my life. And I need to prepare now.’
‘But you will be spending the rest of your life as someone’s wife,’ he said, smiling at her. And that d … d … damned eyebrow was quirked at her as though she was an idiot.
‘Really, my lord? I am twenty-five years old. I have been earning my living as a milliner. I have nothing to recommend me …’ He opened his mouth. Tallie swept on, ‘And before you say that I have my fortune to recommend me I must tell you, sir, that I would go back to hat-making for my livelihood rather than marry a man who wanted me for my money.’
‘You think that your fortune is all that you have to recommend you?’ Nick took her by the shoulders and turned her so that she was facing the great mirror that hung over the fireplace. ‘Look at yourself.’
Tallie looked. Looking back at her was a young woman of slightly more than average height, dressed in a fashionable gown of soft spring green that clung to full breasts and skimmed over a slender figure. Her eyes, just a little darker than the gown, were wide and her lips full and slightly parted. Her colour was high, white cheeks flushed with rose.
Behind her a tall man held her with hands that rested firmly on each shoulder. In the glass their eyes met—hers wide and startled, his dark and hot as she had never seen them.
‘If you would just let your hair free a little …’ One hand left her shoulder to touch the pins that kept the gilt mass tight and disciplined.
With a gasp Tallie whirled round and found herself right against Nick’s chest. ‘No!’
‘No?’ He was not asking her about her hair. His voice was deep, dark, husky. His hands were on her shoulders again, pulling her inexorably against him. ‘No?’
She should step back. She should say ‘No’. She should … she should let him kiss her.
Tallie closed her eyes against the fire in his and stopped pulling back. The heat of him remembered from the studio seemed to burn her flesh through the fine muslin of her gown. The scent of him—male, exciting, overlain with a civilising veneer of sharp cologne—that she had not remembered.
Nor had she imagined how his mouth would feel when it came down on hers. How could she know what her first kiss would be like? She had not realised that his mouth would be both firm and soft, demanding yet tender. She had not dreamed that her lips, already parted in surprise, would open of their own accord under the pressure of his, that his tongue would slip caressingly, shockingly between them. And she had had not the slightest suspicion that a caress on the lips would make her breasts ache, would send strange, uncomfortable, wanton messages down—
Tallie jerked back gasping and instantly Nick released her. His eyes were dark, his breath was short, but the imperturbable mask of control was back. Then she made the error of dropping her eyes from his and became jarringly aware of just how unsuited for hiding the effects of male arousal the fashion of the day for tight trousers was.
It was probably impossible to blush more than she was already, Tallie thought wildly as she took refuge